


Sparrow and Deer

by Beryll (Rynthjan)



Series: Knight Tales [4]
Category: Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:33:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynthjan/pseuds/Beryll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The price you ask is sometimes the price you have to pay</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparrow and Deer

**Author's Note:**

> Jean Moineau = Johnny Depp

Just a few miles south of Calais there was a fisher village so small it didn't even have a name of its own. Everybody just called it the village south of Calais. It did however have one larger house build of stone that served as the tavern for the fishers. And for travelers who might for whatever strange reason come by the place.

A traveler who came by quite regularly and was very welcome to the village was Captain Jean Moineau. In contrast to the fishers who mostly paid their beer in fish the good Captain paid in hard coin. In return none of the people of the village ever asked any questions - like where he kept his ship or what exactly his business was - and that was just how the Captain liked it.

This afternoon he was sitting close to the door of the inn, nursing his beer and watching the sky through the open door. A storm was approaching fast and bringing in the night with it. Dark clouds where chasing each other and the waves battered the shore with increasing urgency. The last fishers were bringing in their boats as quickly as possible. None of them would brave the channel in such a weather.

Captain Moineau wasn't daunted. He knew the channel in and out like only a handful of men. And all of those men had the same profession - smuggling. It was a time honored tradition of English and French Captains who somehow came by a ship small and fast enough to qualify for the task. Jean ancestors had been pirates but he had turned to a less violent approach when the British fleet armed its ships to the teeth.

After all he wanted to make some money to settle down at some point. Not become another legendary name in the history books of various traditional pirate towns of the French Atlantic coast. The thrill of crossing the channel in the dark of night in any weather, evading patrol ships and making landfall in the oddest places was enough for him.

But not tonight. 

Business was good since the Queen had again - for the third time this year - closed travel across the channel to anybody who didn't carry a permit stamped and signed by her authorities. Nobody was entirely sure what the commotion was about this time but the common folk had long ago stopped questioning nobility and the nobility - who could even begin to guess what was going through their heads.

Still this night there was no run waiting for Captain Moineau and his small crew and he was looking forward to spending the evening and better part of the night drinking. A whore would have been perfect to fill the rest of the night but there were none in the village and at the moment Calais' guards were to nosy for Jean's tastes. So beer would have to do.

Or so he thought till he noticed a lone rider coming into the village, wrapped in a large cloak against the rain which by not had started to fall, the hood drawn into the face so it was not discernible if it was man or woman. What Jean could tell immediately was that a rider on such a fine steed had no business in this place. Unless he was looking for a certain Captain Moineau. It was well known in the seedier tavern of Calais where he could be found if somebody wanted to do business with him. Maybe it wouldn't be such a quiet night after all.

He watched as the rider dismounted with practiced ease right in front of the tavern. As the person was rather small and of a slight build, Jean wondered if it might be a woman. He didn't have to wonder long as the rider quickly tied his mount to a post in front of the door and then came inside, scanning the single gloomy room that served as the common room of the inn and then walked over to Jean purposefully.

"Captain Moineau?" the rider asked with a voice that was velvety soft and sweet but still discernibly male and tinged with am accent Jean couldn't quite place.

Jean looked up at the face still hidden in the depth of the hood. As he didn't feel threatened by the sole man he didn't deny his identity. "The same."

The rider breathed a small sigh of relieve and then sat down opposite of Jean. "I am told you are the person to talk to when one wants to cross the channel unobserved in a hurry."

That was aptly put.

"Maybe." Jean replied noncommitively. He had learned the hard way to by vary of strangers and only to trust one thing: gold.

"I need to get to England quickly." The man in front of him continued. "With my horse."

Jean allowed himself a smile. The faster they needed to get there the more they were usually willing to pay.

"I do not bargain with people who's faces I can not so." he said calmly.

For a moment the man hesitated, then he peeled back the hood of the cloak. Jean couldn't stop a small gasp from escaping him. The face perfectly matched the soft voice. Perfectly shaped, youthful, the skin milky white and flawless, it would have been beautiful enough to make any man or woman feel a certain longing. But the huge blue eyes made it perfect as they were not only pretty but filled with a irresistible mix of innocence, pleading and just a hint of fear.

To hide the stirring he suddenly felt in his groin, Jean picked up his beer again and drank, trying to look calm and professional. Feeling a shiver of excitement run up his spine he wondered just how badly this pretty boy wanted to get across the channel and what he would be willing to pay.

"The channel is closed to any who do not carry the queen's permit," Jean opened negotiations, "I do not think you have one."

"No, I don't," the blue eyed boy said, "if I had I wouldn't be here, would I?"

"The British navy is quite nasty these days." Jean continued undaunted. "A crossing will not come cheaply."

"I can pay." The boy replied without hesitation.

So he was not only good looking but also rich. An odd mixture for a lonely rider. But it was not Jean's place to question that. In fact he was interested in other things right now.

"I haven't even named my price yet," he said with a smile, "maybe you are not willing to pay that much."

For a moment the boy looked at him silently like he was trying to come to a decision, various emotions flitting over his face and reflecting in his expressive eyes.

"So what is your price then?" he finally asked, forcing out the words.

Jean leaned back on the chair, his gaze steady on the boys face. "The evening tide has gone and the night will be too stormy to make a crossing with a horse." He explained. "But the morning will bring heavy fog so we can leave on the morning's tide." The smile on his face grew into a seedy grin. "Which means we have a night to kill. You will spend that night with me, servicing me. That is the price."

For a moment the boy gapped at Jean open mouthed. Then he closed his mouth with an audible 'thup', his bright blue eyes now taking on the hue of a summer sky during a thunderstorm. 

"That is audacious!' he growled.

Jean grinned, entirely relaxed. "You have to get across, don't you? And as you said yourself: if you had another option you wouldn't be here. So I think you will pay my price."

He watched with delight how the boy squirmed. It had been a gamble but assume the boy had no other option but obviously Jean had hit the mark or his potential prey would have left by now.

Finally the boy drew in a deep breath, fighting down all the emotions flashing in his wonderful eyes. "I agree to your price, Captain Moineau. But under one condition: I get to set the pace of this 'servicing'." He growled.

Jean raised a curious eyebrow. Now that was a condition he had definitely not expected. He answered with a smirk. "As long as you manage to keep me entertained I don't see a reason to deny you this." Just to get the boy out of his concealing cloak to see if he was as pretty all over as his face would have been sufficient payment, actually. But Jean didn't see a reason not to press so boy for as much as he could possibly get.

He got up from his chair, picking up his mug of ale, and went over to the tavern keeper to get them a room. The dirty smirk on the good man's face made it clear that he had guessed what transaction would be taking place between the two of them and he gave Jean a thumbs up. Jean grinned back, feeling quite elated at the prospect of what was to come.

Reluctantly the boy followed him up the creaking stairs to one of the small clean rooms that were set aside for the odd traveler that came by the village.

Jean watched with amusement how the boy looked at the simple place. A sturdy bed, a small table with a bowl of water, a trunk at the food of the bed. That were the furnishings. Obviously the boy was used to better.

For a moment Jean wondered why exactly the boy had to get over the channel so urgently and who he might be. But then he banned these questions from his mind. He may want to fuck the kid but he never pried into the business of a customer. That was an iron rule of any smuggler worth his name.

He firmly closed and barred the door behind them.

Taking another deep breath the boy took of his cloak, revealing well made traveling clothes that were made of fine fabric as well as being sturdy and functional. Whoever had equipped him for his journey had done well. With renewed curiosity Jean noticed how well used the clothes looked and how much the boy seemed at ease in them. His body was as slender as Jean had imagined and let him estimate the boys age at less than twenty. Still he carried himself in a way that made him look older and more experienced despite his youthful and innocent features.

"So what's your name, boy?" Jean asked. "Or rather - what should I call you?"

"You can call me Elijah." The boy replied calmly, now obviously resigned to what was to happen.

With a grin Jean spread his arms. "Well then, Elijah, do get started before I get bored and decide to take matters into my own hands."

Again there was that stormy glow to Elijah's eyes that made him look fucking gorgeous. With a quick step the boy was right in front of Jean. Before the Captain could react in any way Elijah had grabbed his head by the hair and pulled him down into a kiss that was scorching hot, hungry and anything but inexperienced.

Invited by the boy's opened mouth he pushed inside with his tongue only to find himself battling with Elijah's, both of them hungrily fighting to dominate the kiss. Till then Jean had been interested more in a theoretical fashion in fucking the boy but now his cock leaped to attention as Jean felt his blood thunder in his veins, ignited by the forward passion of this boy who looked so angelic and still seemed to have the devil inside him, now that he was released.

He was about to grab the boy around the waist, when he was again surprised. Elijah hooked one foot behind Jean's leg and tumbled the Captain onto the bed with an ease that spoke of an expertise he simply shouldn't possess.

With a groan Jean landed on his back, firmly pinned beneath the boy. Looking up at Elijah he saw dry amusement sparkle in those blue eyes and for the first time Jean wasn't entirely sure if maybe he had made a mistake in going for this particular treasure as it seemed equipped with teeth and claws.

But before he could react in an appropriate fashion, the boy leaned down again for another devouring kiss while his hand unerringly found Jean's crotch, giving the hard bulge he found there an experimental squeeze that made Jean jump in surprise as well as in a rush of excitement. He wasn't given time to recover as Elijah kept anticipating him, first keeping his mouth occupied with hot kisses while he was loosening Jean's clothes with nimble fingers and then skillfully removing more and more of them without ever breaking away long enough for Jean to actually take the initiative.

Finally the boy knelt back above him, looking down at Jean again with that same dry amusement now mixed with passion. And Jean was allowed the time to realize that he was spread on the bed like a feast to be enjoyed, mostly naked, flushed with arousal, his cock rock hard and throbbing, making it impossibly hard to find a clear thought or make a plan on how to regain control of this situation that was wildly spinning out of control.

"Still bored, Captain Moineau?" Elijah asked, his blue eyes sparkling.

Jean drew breath for an answer but all that left his mouth was a gasp, as Elijah's hand firmly encircled Jean's cock. All witty answers fled his mind as those slender fingers stroked him expertly. No whore he had ever been with had set him aflame so quickly and thoroughly. The boy knew exactly what he was doing. Jean was completely consumed by the delicious friction on his cock, moaning openly.

Still he jumped in surprise when a second set of slender fingers slipped further down to his ass, finding their way to his hole. Groaning Jean futilely fought again the haze of pleasure his cock fed into his brain.

This was not what he had planned on for this night. This was all wrong. And still so fucking good.

He whimpered in a mixture of pleasure and pain as one finger slowly but relentlessly was pushed inside him while the hypnotizing rhythm on his cock didn't falter even once.

Memories of times he had thought long past flitted through his brain, when he had done this before. When it had been done to him. Then he had grit his teeth against the pain. This time he found himself moaning and pushing back against the invasion as his body was experiencing far more pleasure than pain.

He was quite sure when it happened but at some point he just quit resisting. He had wanted the boy to service him. And even if this was not the service he had expected - it was excellent service. He spread his legs wider to give Elijah better access to his cock as well as to his ass. 

He yelped in pain when another finger entered him and then he gripped the sheets on the bed hard when those fingers pushed further inside finding a spot that made him see sparks and drove the last bits of reason from his mind. He was burning all over and he didn't care how that fire would be quenched as long as it would be soon. The needy, pleading sounds escaping from his throat would have embarrassed him had he heard himself. 

As it was Jean groaned in satisfaction when the fingers were replaced by the hot, solid pressure of a cock nudging his hole and then pushing inside of him, hard and unyielding, filling him slowly. He kept his eyes screwed shut tightly, unable to face the amusement in the blue eyes of the boy he had planned to take himself.

He arched his back in bliss as the invading cock caressed him inside, making his whole body draw taunt with the sensations coursing through him.

And still the hand on his cock hadn't stilled a single time, stroking him in that inescapable rhythm, bringing him closer and closer to orgasm. Just as the cock inside him took up the same rhythm - in and out - just as slowly and steadily.

Jean bucked his hips helplessly, urging the boy to go faster, unable to phrase any plea. And for once the boy did what Jean hoped for and thrust into him faster and harder, his stroking hand speeding up as well.

Lost in his pleasure Jean nearly missed when Elijah leaned down, kissing Jean's throat, working his way up to his ear with gentle bites.

"Look at me." The boy's silken voice whispered in Jean's ear, followed by a hot tongue caressing the shell of his ear.

Unable to resist the order of this boy who had mastered his body so perfectly, Jean looked up at Elijah, drowning in the clear blue eyes that were now filled with just as much pleasure and passion as Jean felt.

"Come for me." Elijah ordered just as softly.

And like a giant wave crashing over him, Jean's lust washed over him, washed him away into blissful oblivion.

-

"Well, Captain Moineau. It certainly was a pleasure." The boy with the startling blue eyes said, drawing up his hood and hiding the dirty smirk playing over his lips.

The sun was still hidden in the mists of England's coast. The morning was cool. Still Jean felt heat race through his body at that smirk.

Just as he had promised they had left on the morning tide. And now it was time to part with his passenger. Jean wasn't quite sure if he was glad it was over or if he would have liked to try again. To try what exactly he wasn't entirely sure.

The boy nimbly climbed over the railing and started wading through the surf to the beach where his horse was already waiting for him.

But then he turned around one last time, that dry amusement back in his eyes.

"I'll make sure I look for you when I need to get back." He said sweetly. "Your prices are most agreeable."


End file.
